


The Rising Path

by hiza-chan (callunavulgari)



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Porn, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 15:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/hiza-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope's teenage years are... trying, to say the least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rising Path

Hope's teenage years are... trying, to say the least. He'd had to go through a lot pretty young, and fourteen really hadn't been the time for him to learn everything he did, but it was over and done with and Hope's... better now, even if he is using years fifteen through nineteen as irresponsibly as possible to make up for his fourteenth year.  
  
The fourth time he stumbles into Lightning's apartment high and drunk she decides things have to stop. She can't clean up after a nineteen year old and fuck, he doesn't even _live_ here, so why does he show up here more often than he goes back to his own place? But he's grinning at her, sashaying his way towards where she's seated on the couch with a smoking cigarette in one hand. She just rolls her eyes at him, scoots over a bit to make room for him on the sofa. God, it isn't fair that he's more of a handle at nineteen then he'd been when he was still going through puberty.  
  
He flops down on the couch beside her, still grinning stupidly. His eyes brighten when he notices the smoldering cigarette in his hands, like he'd forgotten it was even there. He takes a deep drag and the tip flares _brightbrightbright-_  
  
She takes it away from him before he can start a fire, slides from the couch and makes her way into the kitchen. She crushes it out against the side of the kitchen sink, drops it down the drain and narrows her eyes at him- wishes she'd taken a drag off of it before she'd thrown it out. The breakfast bar bites into her back and she allows the discomfort to distract her from the way Hope's getting up off the couch to make his way over to her. He presses himself against her side, and that damn grin is still on his lips- she just wants to smack him. She glares up at him, thinks that it's incredibly unfair that he's _taller_ than her now.  
  
She starts to say something about how _isn't he a little old to be doing this?_ but then he ducks his head and presses his lips to her pulse and she forgets what she'd been saying. His lips drag up her neck, presses little half kisses against her throat and over her chin until he reaches her lips.  
  
Not only is it unfair that he's taller now, but it's also incredibly unfair at how uncommonly good he is at sex when he's inebriated. He's all kittenish- mischievous and playful, more worried about how many orgasms he forces from her than getting off himself. Breaking the kiss, he nuzzles his way back down her neck- pulls off her vest with clumsy boy fingers and presses kisses against the pale swell of her breast, licks at the point of her nipples, and _keeps going_ , down and down until he's hitching her skirt up over her hips and _oh-_  
  
It doesn't matter how many time Hope goes down on her because she will always be surprised by how fucking good he is at it. Licks and nudges- pushes his tongue up into her in shallow little thrusts that make her pant and clench a fist full of pale hair. And back out- short, quick little flicks of his tongue over her clit while he pushes a finger up into her and fuck, she can't stand this-  
  
She pulls him up to her, kisses him and tastes herself on his tongue- fumbles with his belt buckle until she's got his cock in her hands. He groans into her mouth, pushes into her hand, bites down on her lip. She's scrambling, she knows- hitching one leg up around him and scooting back until she's partially perched on the counter, but she wants him inside of her _right now_ \- She guides his cock up into her and the pressure's so good, hard cock inside of her and his clumsy fingers fumbling with her clit. His thrusts are slow at first, because after all these years she knows that he likes to savor it in the beginning, the feel of his cock slipsliding in and out of her swollen pussy, her hands clawing at his back. But the more she moans, twists her hips and rocks against him, the more erratic his rhythm becomes until he's pounding into her and whimpering against her neck, hips twitching in something so sporadic and desperate that it isn't a rhythm at all.  
  
Hope comes inside of her and she should feel annoyed by that- but fuck, it's not like there's a risk of pregnancy this week and it's worth it to feel his cock spasm inside of her-  
  
And then his mouth is back at her clit and he presses little kisses over it- licks his come out of her while she's still on the edge and presses harder against her clit- thrusts three fingers up inside of her and she's coming harder than she has in weeks with a hand tearing at his hair and her teeth digging into her lower lip.  
  
Once the shocks are fading she realizes he's grinning at her, wide and pleased with himself. He hasn't even thought to wipe his face, still wet with her and- she laughs, because there's _come_ at the corner of his mouth, his own come and he's just so silly when he's drunk. So she wipes his face clean for him and pulls him against her.  
  
_Fuck, it's so hard to be mad at someone when they give you an orgasm like that._  



End file.
